R is for restraints I use to make the magic last
by SuperWoman0124
Summary: When Moriarty makes John choose to f*** Sherlock or let him die, which will he choose?


Title: R is for Restraints I use to make the magic last

Summary: When Moriarty makes John choose to f*** Sherlock or let him die, which will he choose?

Characters: Sherlock H./ John W.

Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Fuck Or Die, Top John, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, first time, Virgin Sherlock, M/M, Happy Ending, Sweet John

Notes:

I'm not even in this fandom anymore. -_"/_-

In October of '14, I began a collection titled "The Abc's of Kinky Sex" (based upon The Lords of Acid song of the same name) where I took each of the 26 letters (Different ships & fandoms) and made a fic about each line. It took me almost 7 months to finish, but I never posted Z. Doing a little facelift and posting to this website as well. Enjoy!

Original Notes: All of my Sherlock fics involve bondage. Couldn't tell you why... Loosely based off of the episode "A Scandal in Belgravia." Starts off non-con, ends in a mutually beneficial situation.

* * *

Sherlock opened his eyes to the barrel of a gun, black as the room surrounding it.

Click.

The hammer brought back of a .45 pistol, the owner's fat fingers clenched tightly around the grip.

Where was he again? Why couldn't he remember? The smell of chlorine filled his nostrils and assaulted his senses. John was screaming and Sherlock's head thumped. His vision was spinning and he couldn't focus, so Sherlock relied on his other senses. (Motors humming, smell of sweaty gym socks and testosterone, salt, heavy in the air. ) Ah, yes. The sports center. After John grabbed Moriarty and his cohort aimed a laser sight at Sherlock's forehead, Jim bashed him in the head with the butt of his gun for good measure, knocking him momentarily unconscious.

"No! No, please. Please, don't." John sputtered, reaching one hand out to Sherlock, blood finding his eye. "Don't hurt him."

Moriarty shot John a wicked smile, all gnashing teeth and gleaming eyes. "Oh, I won't be the one doing the hurting, darling. That'd be you."

"W-What?" John attempted to stand, before Moriarty lunged forward, arming the gun barrel at John instead.

"DON'T!" echoed from the walls, bouncing around in Sherlock's swollen skull as he tried to focus on the situation. He attempted to reach up, wipe the blood away but he found himself bound. He pulled on both arms, subtly at first, and when Moriarty looked back at him, he struggled in panic. Fury flew across his features, teeth clenching in anger.

Moriarty snicked, waving the gun back and forth.

"Wouldn't do that, now, Sherlock. Or your dear little doctor goes kaboom!" The man's scattered brain seemed to control his actions, enunciating every word separately. "Let's play a game. You love games..." Moriarty slotted the barrel under Sherlock's chin, raising his head. "Don't you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock refused to answer, earning a barrel pressed into his adam's apple, forcing a pained whine from his windpipe. Sherlock stared into Moriarty's eyes, not backing down.

"Stop! Don't- alright! We'll play your little game, but for God's sakes, just stop." John huffed a breath through his nose.

"Great!" Moriarty dragged the word out. "At least we're on the same page."

Moriarty turned around, skipping as he crossed the space to the military doctor, leaning over to whisper into his ear. It took quite a while, and when Sherlock looked over, John's blue eyes were wide open in shock and utter defeat. John sighed, Moriarty pulled away and smirked devilishly back at Sherlock, raising to his full height.

"Now, let's begin. Rules! There must be rules. No biting, that wouldn't be fun." Moriarty raised his pointer finger to his chin like Sherlock and John had agreed to this. Like they were old mates and did this often. Honestly, Sherlock was terrified. Judging by John's reaction and his talented gift for deduction, it wasn't anything he was going to like.

Moriarty prattled on, going off in a tangent about how important the "No biting" rule was, spinning on his heel. Sherlock tried once again to pull on his restraints, bringing the attention back to himself. "Ah, that's rule two, Sherly. I want to see you..." Moriarty ran over and ran a finger down Sherlock's cheek. "struggle."

"From what, exactly?" Sherlock looked to John where his head hung in defeat, practically sobbing.

Jim turned, pointing at John.

"Him."

Sherlock shook his head. "B-but, why?"

"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. I'm sure a "Consulting Detective" such as yourself could figure something like little ol' me out. Com'on." Moriarty gave his face a hard shove. "Give it a go."

Sherlock focused, words that didn't make sense yet began spinning around his head. Words like 'Alone.' 'Scared.' 'Shaking.' Sherlock further observed his surroundings. John's pants were too tight and he looked shameful. Wouldn't look at him. Needed John to look at him.

"John, look at me." Sherlock instructed coldly.

John obeyed and Sherlock saw the beginnings of the tears, collecting in the cracks of John's eyes.

"So-" Sherlock cleared his throat. He had to be right. He couldn't figure it out, but it was on the tip of his tongue. "Something awful, I'm sure. If it has to do with only John and myself, it must be personal. But not something we've done before, something new, something it would take force to do. John is in tears, which is entirely unnecessary for this current scenario, but it must mean something." Sherlock closed his eyes and wished he could rub his temples and have a cigarette. This was so easy. It was right there. Why couldn't his tiny brain figure it out?

"Sherlock, are you a virgin?"

The evil smirk spread to Moriarty's ears while he stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

Sherlock was the next to be shocked once it clicked.

"You wouldn't." Sherlock spat, finally processing the information.

"I won't. But he will." Jim smiled like a bear protecting its territory. "Or you'll die. Plain as the nose on your face." Jim poked his nose. "John? Come here."

John visibly shook, slowly rising from his knees to stagger over. He looked like a walking zombie, bomb strapped to his chest, eyes glazed with tears and legs wobbling. John let out a loud sniff before turning to Sherlock with a heavy heart.

"Johnny here is going to fuck you, Sherlock. I don't care how, I don't care what happens. As long as you follow the rules and you both enjoy yourselves."

John dared to look at Sherlock, strapped to a metal bedspring, his long frame forcibly tethered, chest heaving like he'd never catch his breath. John smoothed the material of Sherlock's button up over his chest with his calloused palm, leaning over to whisper into Sherlock's ear.

"Now, now," Click. The gun being cocked and aimed for the back of John's ear. "No secrets. Tell the whole class."

John began tearing up again, fingers going to his cheek to wipe a stray tear.

"Don't worry." John sighed. "I - I'll be gentle. Fast as possible. Then I'm going to get us out of here in one piece. Alright?"

Sherlock gulped and nodded tightly. The mental preparation was easy. He accepted the circumstances, internalized it, and moved on. Sherlock found himself slightly numb to the entire situation. If it were anyone, he was glad it was John and not Moriarty himself. John and he had a personal relationship, and Sherlock found himself more fond of him than anyone else on this idiotic planet.

John was so nervous his left hand began to tremor, unsure of how to proceed with this. He hadn't been too experienced in the world of... oh god, sex. How would Sherlock want it? Cold and clinical? Warm and passionate? This was rape and he wanted the embarrassment and shamefulness to be over as soon as possible. He figured that Sherlock must feel the same way, and that voicing his actions before he did them would probably be best.

"I- uh." John stuttered. "W-w-would you like if I kissed you first?"

Sherlock turned to face John, who was now on his knees in front of him. Sherlock's blush spread to his cheeks, surpassing his placate demeanor when he smirked, shocking John.

"You're the experienced one here. You tell me."

John looked back at Moriarty who was watching intently, the smirk from Sherlock spreading to his face. Sherlock outstretched his arm as far as he could, turning John's face to him.

"It's just us. Don't think about him, okay? It's just us."

'Okay,' John assured himself internally. 'I can do this. Clinical. It's just Sherlock. It's just Sherlock. I can do it.'

John tentatively leaned over, lightly brushing his lips against Sherlock's with a pursed dryness. It was quick. Chaste. But oddly, John wanted to try again. Sherlock pulled back, eyes piercing through John's.

"Again." Sherlock demanded, allowing his tongue to sweep out over his bottom lip, and leaning up for another chance.

John leaned into it, bringing his hand into Sherlock's shaggy rough hair and smoothing his lips over the quickly drying saliva on Sherlock's lips. Sherlock parted his lips, allowing John's tongue into his own warm mouth and made a soft sound when they connected. Electricity began firing off inside their bodies, adrenaline pumping through their veins as the kiss deepened. Sherlock's lips molded to John's, making John gasp at how wonderful it felt.

"Getting bored." Jim sat back on a palate, waving the gun around.

John and Sherlock broke apart, stars lighting in their eyes from the immediate satisfaction of finally giving in to the sexual tension they've noticed since the second they met, but no one had the balls to go through with it.

"I suppose I-I'll just..." John stood, using the bed frame as leverage. He slotted his knee in between Sherlock's parted thighs, making room for himself. He landed the other leg between Sherlock and he pulled his legs up as far as he could go, creating a warmth and friction that Sherlock wanted more of. John ran his hand down Sherlock's chest, stroking gently while staring into his partner's eyes. He thrusted forward, the adrenaline creating a large bulge that rubbed not-so-subtly against Sherlock's not-so-subtle bulge.

"I-is that alright?" John whispered into Sherlock's shoulder as he scaled over to kiss at his neck.

"I suppose it has to be." Sherlock tilted his head back to grant John better access to his neck. Sherlock pulled at his restraints again, wrists rubbed red with the inflexible fabric digging in with each uneasy tug. When John was close enough, he rose himself to Sherlock's ear, whispering so Jim wouldn't hear.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock made a shushing noise and raised his hand to cradle John's face and smiled brightly. It's only when John noticed the laser sight on Sherlock's forehead jostle that he remembered where they were and why they were there.

"Shirt off or on?" John cleared his throat, sitting up to unfasten Sherlock's trousers while Sherlock observed, curiously.

"On, preferably." Sherlock spoke quickly, taking in a deep breath. Ignoring the urge to panic.

When John finally pulled the fly down and reached underneath him to grasp at Sherlock's firm globes, as gasp elated from Sherlock's parted lips. John fingered the waistband and pulled, leaving Sherlock bared and vulnerable. John pulled the pants off of Sherlock's ankles. Sherlock's half hard cock sat on his taunt stomach and John took the sight in. He suddenly wished they were under different circumstances and maybe just maybe things would be different.

John had realized that he'd been unmoving, staring unabashedly at Sherlock's prone form.

"Suck his cock, Mr. Watson." Jim knocked John out of his stunted demeanor, remembering what he'd promised Sherlock. Quick as possible.

"Here goes nothing." John found himself announcing out loud, bending himself in half to lick the length of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock made no noise, but he took his bottom lip between his teeth and watched carefully. John wrapped his hand around the shaft, forcing it to stand at attention in the air. He licked the shaft, he liked it when it was done to him, so he figured Sherlock would like it, too.

Sherlock remained quiet, foregoing watching to lay his head back and buck his hips into John's mouth. John hovered over the organ, taking a deep breath before sinking his mouth over the now fully hard member. He watched his teeth, suckled the head before working up the courage to try and take a majority of the shaft into his mouth before gagging. Sherlock did moan that time, pulling on his restraints and gasping.

John pulled off and caught his breath. He thought this would be god awful, but honestly, it wasn't so bad. It was his mate after all. Sherlock began to toss his head back and forth, and John continued. He took the girth back into his mouth, applying pressure with his tongue on the underside and Sherlock very suddenly got loud. Very loud.

"Is this your first blowjob, Sherlock?" John looked over at where the voice was coming from and Jim looked pleased, eyes half lidded with lust and determination.

Sherlock slowly nodded his head yes and returned his attention to the doctor between his legs. He stuttered a deep breath, forcing his chest to contract and expand rapidly, ripping a moan from his throat. John swooped down, taking Sherlock's impressive cock all the way down and reaching down to fondle his balls. Sherlock let out a high-pitched whine. Oh yes, he liked that. John slotted his fingers under the stretch of skin beneath Sherlock's balls, pressing lightly, triggering his prostate and making him writhe.

Sherlock thrust his hips up into John's warm mouth and clenched his fingers, letting his head roll back. John heard a moan coming from the side, probably from Jim, he didn't know. Then he heard a zipper.

"That's enough. Get him ready."

John pulled off with a slick pop, peering over at Jim.

"I-I don't suppose you've got any lubricant?" John realized how wrecked his voice was, tremors overtaking his body from sitting in this same position for so long.

"Fresh out. Looks like you'll have to do it the old-fashioned way." Jim was stepping out of his pants, kicking them off to the side. He wouldn't touch himself. This wasn't about him. It was all too much, but the lack of space in his pants was on the verge of painful.

"Please, just let us go! We've done what you asked. You've had your fun." John pleaded, not daring to move.

"Not yet, you haven't. What I have in store is quite lethal. And we can't have our dear Sherly dying a virgin. Unless you'd like me to-" Jim took a step forward.

"N-no!" John shouted, listening to Sherlock's gaping breath. "No, I'll do it."

John climbed Sherlock's body, staring deeply into Sherlock's wandering eyes, shock and arousal banishing the varying colors from his iris.

John laid his forehead down on Sherlock's, ignoring the patch of sweat that had gathered and let out a deep breath.

"I've got to-" John sighed. "I've got to prep you. So it doesn't hurt. You okay with that?"

Sherlock nodded.

"A request, John?"

"Anything."

"Kiss me again."

John looked to Jim for permission, he didn't want Sherlock to get shot for disobeying. Jim nodded, arms splayed wide on either side of his makeshift chair.

Their breath mingled, John pressed lightly at first, feeling Sherlock's warm dry lips against his own. John deepened the kiss, moving slow but sure, teeth catching and tongues dividing, winding together until they were lost in it. John ground his hips down again, feeling Sherlock return the thrust.

John ran his hand down Sherlock's body, his chest contracting at the contact until he found the spot below his balls again, rubbing in a small semicircle until he dipped lower, slick from the saliva dripping from Sherlock's pulsating cock. John bowed, kissing Sherlock's neck as he felt him relax, rubbing Sherlock's entrance with the pad of his fingertip.

John littered small kisses along his collarbone, pushing in until he had his finger in to the first joint. Sherlock hissed, but quickly welcomed the burn. John sucked at his flatmate's skin, massaging the flesh with his tongue.

When he sunk his finger deeper, John lifted, capturing Sherlock's lips again, letting out little pleasure sounds at the feeling of his mouth. John felt Sherlock's cock jump, pulling his finger out to push it back in, deeper this time. Sherlock's body began to accept the intrusion, swallowing the finger between his hot velvet walls. John drove the last bit in, letting out a small whimper when Sherlock moaned.

John pulled out slowly, so slowly, reclaiming Sherlock's neck, sucking on his adam's apple before putting the two fingers together and circling the rim.

"I've gotta do two, Sherlock." John rasped, kissing his way up his jaw.

"Do it." Sherlock gasped.

John thrust in.

The burn was exquisite. It hurt and was entirely too uncomfortable, but it was John caring for him. Sherlock's eyes glowed and he began to pant, John was two knuckles inside and pressed up, making Sherlock hyperventilate. Jim chuckled, spread his legs and watched. Sherlock pulled in a deep breath, unable to catch the sparks flying in his vision. He'd never felt anything like it. John mouthed at Sherlock's neck again, inching deeper and deeper until he couldn't go any farther. He began to pull them out, scissoring them as he went.

"Shit." Sherlock's vocabulary seemed to be lost on him at this moment and John probed his prostate again, eliciting a harsh groan from the detective's lips. "John, just... just do it. I can take it."

John pressed farther up, making Sherlock squirm.

"You're sure?"

"Not like I can say no." Sherlock looked over at Jim, who looked bored. Sherlock returned his focus to the fingers inside of him, massaging his inner walls and ramming in and out. Sherlock felt so full, so open and so tense. Like a rubber band stretched too tight that could snap at any time. John pulled out slowly and suddenly, Sherlock whined at the emptiness. John guided himself down to Sherlock's lips, and Sherlock began rocking his body into John's tense muscles. John sat up, undid his fly and pulled his trousers down the best he could in this position. He roughly tugged at his own hardened cock, smearing the precome across the tip.

"Ready?" John whispered, lining himself up for Sherlock's gaping hole.

"Do it." Sherlock gasped.

John slid himself in. Once the head was enveloped, John let out the breath he'd been holding, observing Sherlock's features for any sign of distress. Sherlock's face was tight, unmoving and pined back in bliss, mouth agape. A single tear slipped from Sherlock's eye, and John slipped in another inch.

"Okay?" John huffed, the tight heat surrounding, blinking his eyes wildly.

"Y-yes." Sherlock looked down and nodded, pulling on his restraints to run his hands through John's hair, pulling him down for a kiss. John moaned, sinking himself deeper, the skintight passage pulling him in and making him crazy. Sheer willpower keeping him in place. John bucked in, grinding down and feeling his balls rest against Sherlock, John exhaled deeply.

Sherlock blinked more tears back, adjusting to the sting and as the pressure subsided, the pleasure came forth. Sherlock gasped when John resituated his hips, turning in shallow thrusts and slowly pulling out, letting the pleasure burn and flow.

Sherlock let a moan be ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing but unable to do anything but just tense his arms as far as they could reach. John placed one hand over

Sherlock's heart, observing his breathing and heart rate for any signs of distress other than being watched by a mad man. John pushed in delicately, suddenly swallowed whole by the sensation. Sherlock was tight but oh, so perfect. John watched his lips as he fucked in, pumping deeper. The faster he went, the more Sherlock moaned, tantalized by the look of sheer bliss spreading across his features.

John blinked through the sweat dripping from his forehead, the bomb strapped to his chest a heavy reminder of the only reason this was happening. Sherlock bucked his hips up to meet John's, his cock hitting John's pelvic bone in a desperate mewl for attention. John lowered his hand from his chest and took Sherlock in his calloused palm, tightening his grip on the shaft and twisting up as he fucked in. The skin on skin sound thundering in his ears, Sherlock's massive cock between his fingers and fucking deep into Sherlock's prostate was too much. He felt the sudden need to pump faster, harder and he felt his balls tighten, his stomach dropped. And he came. Without a word's notice.

Sherlock felt himself being filled and groaned, running his hand through his hair. John hadn't noticed that he'd stopped moving his hand until Sherlock gave him a less-than-polite nudge.

John huffed a few deep breaths, working through the after shocks of his orgasm. John began pumping again, the slick sound of flesh filling his ears. Sherlock stared blindly into the dark spaces of John's eyes, willing him to come. John pulled out and took Sherlock back onto his mouth, licking the tip and swirling it around the head. John licked the vein from the bottom of the shaft to the top, swallowing him whole. When John got to the back of his throat, Sherlock gasped.

"I'm going to- John," Sherlock sat up to see hazel eyes meeting his own, his cock not leaving the warm cavity and he exploded, fingertips ablaze and whole body cascading into the mattress. Sherlock suddenly felt weightless, numb to his surroundings and could feel a light buzzing in his brain. Sherlock sat back, huffing for oxygen.

John finally pulled off when Sherlock started to hiss from over sensitivity and a little bit of clear fluid dripped from his bottom lip. He had swallowed what he could, the viscous fluid swirling in his stomach but John felt sated. He laid his head down on Sherlock's thigh, breathing in the post coital scents that included grit, sweat, and Sherlock's cologne.

John crawled up and held on to Sherlock's shoulders, placing a light kiss on his neck. Sherlock struggled to pull his arms down, trying to wrap his arms around John's shoulders.

"Will you take these damned things off now?" John exploded, stealing his attention to where Jim was previously sitting, finding that Sherlock and John were alone. John looked back to Sherlock and the laser sight was gone. He hadn't noticed.

"I've known they've been gone for a while, but I thought it rude to interrupt." Sherlock mused, pulling on his restraints. "He left the key on the table."

John sat back and smirked, fishing his fingers into the vest and taking it off slowly, dropping it softly on the floor. He huffed, shaking his head as he took a deep breath, taking Sherlock in for another kiss.

John stood, lightheaded and shaky, to wonder over to the table to a key and a note.

The note read: "Enjoy yourselves. The next month will be hell. -M"

"You sly dog."

John didn't know if he was speaking about Sherlock or Moriarty.


End file.
